It's Only Comfort Calling Late
by BadWolf18
Summary: After three years of nothing, Molly gets a call from an interested party. This is slightly cracky and Sherlock will be in disguise...again. Rated T for swears and sex references in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

When Molly got the call, she thought that she was no longer needed. After three years, no sign of Sherlock or his brother was to be found.

She thought that maybe her job was done.

She was very wrong.

'This is Molly Hooper, who am I speaking to?' she said into the speaker, trying to keep her voice down as she was still at work.

'An interested party, a car will arrive at the hospital in five minuets, I suggest you get inside it.' said the voice.

'Who is this?' Her voice trembled.

'No one who wishes you harm.' the voice said as the car pulled up outside.

There was a woman already inside the car, her fingers dancing on her phone's keys. When they got to the warehouse Molly was terrified. And then a familiar shape came into view, Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother.

'Ah Miss Hooper, please take a seat.' He said as he gestured to a wooden chair, which Molly gladly sat on.

'Miss Hooper, a buisiness to light concerning my brother, he needs your help to go undercover at a care home for the elderly. He'll be undercover as a resident there as for you, if you agree, will be his 'carer'. The last of Moriarty's associates is a worker at this particular care home and it just so happens that Dr John Watson is volunteering there in a few days.' Explained Mycroft.

'I'll do it. But can I see Sherlock before he, you know, goes into his disguise?' Molly queried.

'I'm afraid that will be impossible as he's going in tomorrow and he's already got one of the best make-up artists in the country working on him. But if you feel you'll have trouble recognising him, he'll be under the name of our father, Sigerson Holmes, so there shouldn't be too many problems.' Mycroft said.

'Right, will we be able to talk in private as ourselves?' asked Molly.

'Yes, the room he is staying in is sound proof.' Said Mycroft.

'What will my name be?' Molly asked.

'Ah yes, your name will be Heather Carter.'

The next day Molly woke up with an unfamiliar heaviness at the bottom of her bed, which turned out to be her uniform.

Bugger, it wasn't a dream.

When she arrived at the care home, escorted by one of Mycroft's associates, she was terrified.

Will I ever see Sherlock in the same way after this?

As she walked up the stone steps with trepidation all she could think of was 'I hope I don't screw this up.'

As she entered though the front door she was greeted by a friendly woman who must have been a good ten years older than Molly.

'Miss Heather Carter, lovely to meet you, your patient is Sigerson Holmes just over there.' the worker said as she pointed to the back of an armchair facing the window opposite.

Here it goes.

Molly walked over to the armchair, she could already see tufts of white hair peeping over the chair. Fuck.

When she reached him she was met with a friendly looking, wrinkly, drooping face. Not one that should belong to Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at her, as if to say 'I know, I don't like it either.' .

'So, Mr Holmes, I'm Miss Heather Carter, would you like me to sort out your room for you?' Molly asked.

'Yes I would and could I come with you to make sure everything is OK? And call me Sigerson.' God, Molly thought, he even sounds older.

'Of course Sigerson.' Sherlock slowly got up, relying on a walking stick. Molly took his arm and led him to his room, 221.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock let out a sigh of relief when he entered the sound proof room as he no longer leaned so heavily on his walking stick, although, Molly noticed, he was still using it.

'Ah, this,' he said in his normal voice as he tapped his leg when he sat down on the bed, which was in the far left corner of the room 'A injury from a certain Charles Milverton, blackmailer by profession, though quite a good shot...' he 'explained'.

'Right.' Molly said in a tight voice.

'I'm sorry for pulling you into this, Molly. But you are the only one I can trust apart from John.' Sherlock apologised in a quiet voice.

Molly was quite taken aback.

'Oh! It's fine, um, yeah of course it is! I mean it's rather weird seeing you like this, I mean! Not that you look bad! Um...' Molly squeaked.

Sherlock dismissed this with a simple hand gesture and patted the bed with his newly-old hand, Molly scampered across the room to sit with him. 'God' she thought 'why am I getting so flustered? I'm mean he looks like a man over twice my age! Strange...'

Then there was a knock at the door, and suddenly Sherlock stooped over his walking stick and asked in a timid voice, 'Who is it?'

'Doctor Moran.' a man replied in a low voice. Sherlock suddenly looked scared and, after a beat, winked at Molly.

She got the message.

This was the last of Moriarty's men.

The first thought that passed Molly's mind was 'Why do the nasty guys always have to be the prettiest!? Never mind, job to do.'

'Mister Holmes, I just thought I would say, I'm sorry about the death of your son. It must be hard for you.' Lied Moran in a northern accent.

'Let it rest Moran, you know who I am and I know why you're here. So let's cut the act now and get it done with.' Growled Sherlock in his normal voice as he twiddled around with his walking stick. Suddenly Sherlock withdrew a gun from said walking aid 'You don't really think I would come unarmed.' Sherlock said incredulously.

'I could say the same for you.' Moran retorted as he drew his own gun. All Molly could do is stay away as they drew their guns.

'Oh come on Sherlock! You know if you shoot I shoot back! We'll both die. You're insane to think this will solve all your fucking problems!' Moran shrieked.

'If I die, I take you down with me. That's good enough for me.' Sherlock muttered.

Two shots were fired.

Only one man survived.


	3. Chapter 3

'SHERLOCK!' Molly screamed. Sherlock was curling into himself as blood cascaded down his woolen arm which was turning from a cream color to a deep red.

'Lousy shot, Moran.' Sherlock said, he didn't seem bothered by the fact that he just got shot. He put his left hand down the right side of his collar and retrieved an empty bag of something which used to contain a reddish substance, a blood bag.

'Oh Molly, you didn't think I wouldn't come prepared! Bullet proof suit, the plus-side of the fact I'm supposed to look larger than I am. Though it will leave a bad bruise, I am not mortally injured.' Sherlock reassured Molly.

Molly slapped him hard on the face, removing some of the wrinkly mask at the same time. 'How could you! You utter asshole!' Molly shouted a Sherlock's not-so-chisled face.

'I had to do it in case Moran didn't die from his wound. But he did. Lucky really, I would've had to play injured for longer, which would've been dull.' Sherlock earned another slap.

'So what are we going to do with the body?' Molly asked, gesturing at a certain dead hitman on the carpeted floor.

'One of Mycroft's people is going to come soon, to collect the body. And clean up. And maybe get a new carpet...' Said Sherlock thoughtfully.

'So this is what you've been doing for the last three years?' Molly queried.

'More or less...' said Sherlock enigmatically.

'So you're a serial killer.' Molly said bluntly.

'...I prefer the term ''Assassin''.' Sherlock answered just as bluntly.

'Did you ever have to kill someone you know?' Molly asked cautiously, clutching Sherlock's cushioned arm.

'Yes, someone from university, Victor Trevor. He was my only friend before John. I found him in Las Vegas, he was always the party type. I killed him in a side street, he didn't recognize me. I obviously didn't make much of an impression at uni.' Sherlock said almost sadly.

'I'm sorry, did you ever get hurt?' Molly asked delicately.

'Only as much as you'd expect from sleeping rough whilst trying to find people who want to kill you. Yes I got hurt.' Sherlock uttered, slightly annoyed at the stupid question.

'Sorry, silly question really.' Molly apologized.

There was another knock at the door.

'Ah that would be one of Mycroft's men.'Sherlock said as he got up and walked over.

'Well, you've just come in ti-' Sherlock was cut short as he recognized the man at the door.

Molly almost fainted.

The man at the door was none other than John Watson.


	4. Chapter 4

Just a note: There are some Cabin Pressure references in this but you don't need to have listened to it, so don't worry.

'Oh hi Sherlock. You probably thought that I thought that you were dead. I'm afraid you're very wrong.' John said bluntly.

Sherlock looked lost and confused for a minute then replied 'It's good to see you again.'

'It's good to see you again you utter prick.' mumbled John as he pulled Sherlock into a tight hug.

'Uh John, we should probably make sure Molly's alright. I think she fainted.' John rolled Molly into the recovery position and checked her pulse.

'She'll be fine.' confirmed John. Sherlock was very confused about how calm John was.

'God you look awful.' John said, finally looking at Sherlock's wrinkly face. Sherlock peeled back the mask to reveal a scarred but still handsome face.

'Any better? Or do the scars put you off? Three years of being dead tends to do that to people.' Sherlock said emotionlessly.

'Shut up you arrogant dick.' John said sternly as he embraced Sherlock into a hug.

'So you knew...Mycroft told you.' Sherlock deduced.

'I worked it out actually, Mycroft only confirmed it.' John said, proud of himself.

Sherlock let out a resigned sigh 'Trust Mycroft...' Sherlock smirked and John smiled in a way that instantly made three years wash away.

Molly woke up.

'John!' She squeaked 'I can explain, the body-' but she was cut off by Sherlock.

'I've explained.' Sherlock said.

'Mycroft explained.' John added.

'OK Mycroft explained but I talked.' Sherlock answered truthfully.

'Right, well glad everything is back to normal...' Molly muttered and under her breath 'Particularly your non-wrinkly face...' which Sherlock, who was too busy staring at John platonically, didn't hear.

They escaped out of the Home and made their way back to their respected flats, via Mycroft's HQ to de-brief.

Sherlock, who had been anybody but himself for the last three years, was finally able to work for Scotland Yard (unofficially) and to wear his dearest Belstaff with the additional black designer walking stick.

John, who was in a relationship with a certain Mary Morston, was finally able to have a catch up with his formerly dead best friend who he'd missed for 1095 days.

Molly, who had to lie to her friends for 156 weeks, now felt the weight of her deception ebb away. She also met a lovely ginger pilot called Martin so she no longer pined after the detective.

John Watson's blog had rebooted with its newest case The Empty Coffin or The Return of Sherlock Holmes.

- I'm sorry I ended it now but I'm really busy at the moment. I enjoyed writing this so much and thank you for the reviews! I might, in the future, write some spin-offs from this, so this isn't the last you've heard of me X


End file.
